Work Text:
The night was long, for Ogerpon.
There was a time when it was not so dark. On some nights, she would sneak out of her den to a little clearing in the woods, where the treetops didn't blot out the sky. She loved the way it glittered, loved the little lines that streaked past sometimes and then faded away.
She didn't love it when a lost human would stumble into the clearing, scared from the menacing canopy of darkness and the cries of the ghost Pokemon within. They would fall down on their knees, relieved to have found the safety of moonlight. They'd take a minute, or five, to catch their breath, to slow their heartbeat. Then they'd notice the child-sized creature curled up against a tree stump; feel reassured by her cute appearance. Their eyes would dart around before settling on her starry gaze.
And then their body would hit the ground.
"Be careful if you see a shadow cross your path at night. If you see the shadow, you must put on your mask. They say that the ogre can steal your soul if you look it in the face."
It wasn't her fault. Ogerpon couldn't stop them from coming with her. She'd stand up, her little legs wobbling from the weight of what was going on within her. It was invigorating. It made the night sky a little clearer, it lightened her breathing, it struck the chill from her bones. She felt strong when she took them. That part wasn't so bad.
But then she'd hear them say their name. They'd explain what they were doing in the woods so late at night. They'd say she reminded them of a beloved pet, or their children. Ashamed, she'd start waddling away from the clearing, and the energy would change. Bright yellows and greens swirled into dark, foreboding reds and purples. They'd ask where their body was going. She'd feel fists pounding on a door that only opened one way. They'd start to say their name again, but the words would elude them. Then, finally, quiet.
That part felt horrible.
"If you meet the shadow without a mask, you must pray that it is man, not monster. If it is man, you will live to see another day, and never again forget to wear your mask at night. But if it is monster, you will meet your end. They say it is a fate worse than death."
There was a voice in Ogerpon that objected to being called a monster. She hadn't asked for this curse. It made her sick to her stomach when she dared to think much about it. And it was directly because of this power that she faced night after empty night, living in never-ending loneliness.
But she didn't hide her face either. She still emerged from her isolation to watch the beauty of the universe, to think of how much was out there, how much was out of reach. She didn't run and hide when they came crawling to her feet. So maybe she was a monster after all.
"The ogre is a cruel beast, but it does not venture into crowded spaces. If you stay around us, you won't have anything to worry about."
One day, a man approached Ogerpon's supine form. She'd accidentally fallen asleep, swayed by the sounds of the trees moving and the shimmering of the stars. Something tapped her on the leg and she jolted awake. He was on all fours, head almost buried in the tall grass, but upon noticing her wake he looked up and smiled. Or at least she thought he did; his face was almost entirely covered in cloth, with only his eyes peeking through.
"Hello little one!" he called, and Ogerpon waited for the imminent rush of energy -- but it never came.
"I seem to have lost my water canteen," he said, and it became apparent why he was searching the ground like that. "I tripped over a tree stump and it flew out of my hand. Isn't that funny? Now, would you mind helping me look for it?"
Ogerpon stood, her legs shaking again, but for a very different reason this time. He saw her. A human saw her -- looked directly in her face! -- and survived. She didn't know how; something like this had never happened before. She needed to know before it was too late, and as she saw the man's hand close around something shiny and start to bring it to his face, she had the dreadful feeling that her time was about to run out.
So she did the only thing it made any sense to do, which was to slap it out of his hand.
"PON! Poni ponnnn pon pon!" she hollered, jumping around and flapping her arms. "Grah ponn! Poyo pon pon!"
The man blinked at her. "Now why did you do that?"
Ogerpon shivered. It wasn't fair. Humans and Pokemon were not meant to communicate. She knew this better than anyone else because of her cursed face, but in a moment like this it felt bad that even something as small and commonplace as her words could not be understood.
"I can understand you," he said, and she almost fell over.
"Ponponponpon??" she babbled, no less animated than before. "Poni pon pon wei?"
The man nodded. "Not all humans are so isolated. I have studied long and hard to free my mind of these arbitrary restrictions. It is an honor to speak to you, little one."
For the first time, Ogerpon didn't feel alone.
"Some say the ogre can mimic human speech. I can recall a girl who claimed she heard the ogre's voice echoing from its den. No one believed her at the time. But she's been missing for so long now that I don't even remember her name."
It was the facial covering. Something about not being able to see the man's face prevented her power from taking him with her. She wondered if it was because a person's identity lived on their face, making it easier to lose. It was funny though, she thought, as the man placed her on his shoulders and she gasped at the sight of the forest from a new perspective. She could see his soul clearer than any other she'd ever tasted.
He didn't have a home, so she invited him into hers. It was just a small den carved into the side of a rocky cliff, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Any place where your friends are is a home," he said. Ogerpon's heart sang. She had a friend.
The night wasn't so long anymore. She still loved the stars, but now they weren't the only option. Sometimes she just stayed in the den and talked with the man. There was so much inside of her that she'd never been able to get out before. So many daydreams, so many stories she'd made up watching the lights twinkle in the night sky. The man told her that humans did the very same thing when they looked up. That they were all connected by their love of the universe.
And that just made Ogerpon want to talk even more. The words would stream out of her, seeking the joy of a caring ear -- until they felt like gravel in her mouth. Suddenly, the story she was telling was not her own. The stone she sat on would crack and crumble in the vicelike grip of her prehensile sleeves, and she'd stumble back in shock, clutching her chest, hyperventilating. She didn't know whose stories they were, but she had a hunch where they came from.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I did it again."
Everything she was, everything she felt, was stolen. There was so little she really had to call her own.
"That's not true," he replied, seeing the pain written in her eyes. "You have me."
"Long ago, a man from a faraway region came to Kitakami. The villagers did not trust him at first, as he was not one of them. He joined the Festival of Masks in secret, where he could easily hide his identity. He later became celebrated for the beautiful masks he owned. Until the ogre stole them from him."
"You live in the forest?" the shopkeeper asked. "Are you crazy? No one who stays in the forest after nightfall ever returns."
The man shrugged. "I haven't had a problem."
Ogerpon hugged her knees tight. It was a risk for her to be here, where it would be so easy for someone to notice her, and even hiding behind a wall in the dark she felt so exposed. But her partner needed to buy some supplies, and she wanted to have the chance to hear the people milling about. Now that she understood that she shared the same dreams that they did.
"You better be careful," came the shopkeeper's voice. "Some people think there's a monster hiding out there. Those who are brave enough to explore the woods during the day find bodies just lying in the dirt. No signs of a struggle. And the freakiest part? Their faces are gone, so you can't even tell who it was."
She buried her face in her cloak. The earth here was scorched, and she held the match. These people's hearts did not beat alongside her own. They hated her. She hated herself.
"Let's go," her partner said, and he held her sleeve all the way back to the den.
The man arranged the materials he'd bartered for on the table: some scraps of cloth, a spool of thread, and a small needle. He fashioned the cloth into a face mask. Ogerpon, curious, crawled into his lap, peeking onto the slab of stone he was using as a table. He pulled two crystals from his bag; where they came from, she didn't know, but they caught the light and released it again in such a lovely way.
"You deserve to wear something beautiful," he said.
Carefully, he sewed the crystals into the holes left for the eyes. The result was crude, but Ogerpon gaped in wonder at something so nice being made just for her. She snatched it off the table as soon as he let it go, and tried to pull it over her head. Her partner smiled at the way she fussed, the silly way she rolled around tugging on it because she didn't have the dexterity of human hands. He helped her get it in place, and then she hopped off his lap giddily, dancing and laughing around the room.
The world was still there, as she gazed through the mask's crystals. But now no one had to suffer from the vicious wrath of her eyes.
"It's time for a change," the man said, interrupting her reverie. She looked up at him, and that love she usually felt from him still shone in his eyes. But there was something else there now, too. A sadness.
"These people won't trust us. I know you despise what you've done, but they can't ever forgive you. It'd be best to just start anew somewhere else."
Ogerpon swallowed, hard. He was right. She could no longer burden these people with her memory. She reached up, searching for the man's hand, and he gave it freely. Then they walked out of the cave, never to return.
"Our home suffered from the ogre's malice for many years. It has four masks that grant it additional powers. One is said to restore life to withered plants, such as the poison bramble that threatens to overtake the town. One can rouse even the tiniest flame into a burning inferno. One of them saps the flow from a river, depriving us of the water we need to live. And one can break even the hardest stone in two, so that no one can hide from it."
The new home they found was named Kitakami. It was small, and its people were tightly knit. Of course, they immediately reacted with disgust upon seeing the newcomers' concealed faces.
"Outsiders are not welcome here!" they cried. "Go back to where you came from!"
They couldn't go back. That wasn't an option. So instead, they settled in a cave again, halfway up the nearby mountain. It was dark, a little moist, and uncomfortable.
"Any place where your friends are is a home," the man repeated, and Ogerpon smiled. Even if the villagers drove them out of the region, it would be okay because they were together.
One night when the duo were relaxing in the den, trading stories and laughing, they heard footsteps outside. Silence fell like a candle being snuffed out. The two went on guard, and Ogerpon pulled on her face mask. She wasn't sure whether they should be scared, or if the intruder should be scared.
"Hello travelers," the voice said, and what looked like an old man peered into the cave. It was hard to tell because his face was covered by an ornate festival mask. It made the man look like a fearsome beast bearing sharp teeth. Ogerpon marveled at its beauty.
"I saw how the other villagers treated you," he continued, "and I felt bad. I think I have a way for you to walk among them and be welcomed."
He reached into his bag and produced four more masks, each as special and stunning as the one on his face. Without hesitation, Ogerpon ripped the covering off her face, grabbed the teal mask, and put it on. It fit perfectly, and she stared in delight through the crystal eyes at a reflective puddle near the cave entrance. A new face looked back at her, one that wasn't cursed to lay waste to society. The sound of her ululating in joy cut through the trees.
"Thank you," her partner said to the stranger. "We will never forget your kindness."
The plan worked. Ogerpon and the man were able to go into town for short errands without being recognized, and the people looked at them as neighbors. When the Festival of Masks came around, the two showed up, hoping to blend in with the crowd of masked people, and were instead singled out and celebrated for the sheer magnificence of their masks. For the first time ever, Ogerpon didn't feel like a monster. She felt like a person.
Kitakami had become home. Kitakami was where they belonged.
"We were powerless to the ogre's whims, until a special trio of Pokemon came to visit. Their names were Okidogi, Munkidori, and Fezandipti. They happened to arrive on a day when the ogre was especially angry, and was terrorizing the village with all of its fearsome powers. These three Pokemon spent no time debating what to do before bravely sacrificing themselves to drive the ogre back into Oni Mountain. We call them the Loyal Three, and we honor them every year at the Festival of Masks."
There were no stars in the sky on the night Ogerpon strolled up the path toward their den. She clutched six apples in her stubby little grasp, excited to see her friend's reaction to the surprise treat. The darkness made them harder to pluck, but it didn't matter to her. What was strange, though, was that the entrance to the cave was dark too. They usually kept a lantern lit when one of them was out.
She set the apples down next to a tree stump, and crept toward the opening. Her mask slipped a little, and she took a moment to right it. It was the teal one -- her favorite -- and it was sure to frighten any creature that might've stumbled into their den. She was only a few steps away though when she stopped. There were voices coming from within. Pokemon voices.
"Mm. Kiki? Mungdi mm.."
"Oki! Oki!"
"And? Fezzpti andi fez apt! And!"
"O… dogi o, ee?"
Ogerpon trembled, and pressed herself against the wall. The voices were hushed but they did not sound nice. She couldn't really understand them, either; there was a poisonous quality to their speech that her mind instinctively tried to block out. It felt like slime trickling into her eyes and mouth. Where was her partner? Why couldn't she hear his voice?
Did he need her help?
"PON!" she yelled, hopping into the cave opening, and then froze.
Three towering figures stood in her home. They were Pokemon she'd never seen or even heard of before. They had thick, menacing purple chains tied to them, which floated in the air of their own accord and almost seemed to pulsate with energy. And they were each holding one of her masks.
"Grah! Ponni pon!" she threatened, hoping they would get scared and leave the masks behind. "Grrrrr- pon?"
There was something crumpled on the floor. Ogerpon strained to make out what it was in the darkness. It looked like a pile of cloth that had been shredded to pieces. It took her a minute to recognize the colors. Starting to shake, she shoved the largest of the three Pokemon aside so she could get a better look in the cave.
It was just the four of them. The man she called friend was nowhere to be found.
"GRAAAAAAH!"
White hot, burning rage seeped into Ogerpon's every fiber. She ran out of the cave again and collapsed against a tree, trying to calm herself down from the overwhelming emotion seizing her. But the torrent of power inside of her was too strong. Her energy, the cauldron of souls she'd melted down and digested, was screaming out.
The three Pokemon strutted out of the cave, smirking at their fortune. The fourth mask had come right to them.
"PON PON PON??" she wailed. "What did you do with him?"
Their grins widened, showing decaying teeth festering with greed. One of them stretched a paw toward her, fingers curling with lust to complete their stolen collection, and for a moment she saw her partner reaching out to hold her hand. To tell her she was safe, and loved.
Ogerpon removed the mask.
The loneliness was unbearable. She felt it coming in from all angles, crushing her, wrenching the breath out of her chest. She'd foolishly gotten accustomed to the feeling of being loved. Now, as she unsteadily brought herself to her feet, as she stepped past the three bodies lying motionless on the ground, as her soul flooded with life and power, she wondered if she could even survive it.
She teetered back into her cave, curled up into a ball, and cried.
That was when night became long again.